This chapter is dedicated to thunder2010 :D

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Earlier, when Hermione was fetching logs from the outhouse, she noticed something interesting.

After hearing that exchange, in no time at all, she retrieved that thing she saw as interesting and wielded it like it was some sort of axe.

That's because it was an axe.

And it would be a brilliant tool to bargain with.

Hermione edged back into the house, with the weapon held out in front of her. She had a clear run of the staircase, but there was no telling, when Malfoy could decide to start hunting for her. From what she gleaned - Malfoy had ordered the abduction of a girl (easier to manhandle) from Knockturn Alley and for her to be thrown down a Vanishing Cabinet as some sort of sick experiment.

What he possibly couldn't know, was that Hermione Granger now wandered these halls.

And she wasn't the average girl willing to be messed with.

Now, Hermione knew the man who was behind this, she felt grim and tense. Draco Malfoy hadn't been seen in months. Was this his new hidey-hole? It had a certain difference from the opulence and grandeur of Malfoy Manor. And what was this talk of being ready to die? Far from what could be expected, this axe was going nowhere near Draco Malfoy.

No, if she carried out what she planned, then she was going to save him.

God knows why!

Inside the living room, it was strangely quiet. Hermione wondered if he'd clocked the robes he was huddling under. Maybe that would give him a clue, that the "girl" he had to catch, was closer than he thought. Bugger. The last thing she wanted to be was discrete. Giving a loud war-cry, Hermione charged up the stairs and into the first room she could. She took a flying leap at the Vanishing Cabinet, and buried the hatchet into the panelled door.

Not content, she wrenched it away and struck again.

And again.

And once more.

"WHO THE HELL IS UP THERE?" came the expected bellow from downstairs, followed by frantic footsteps.

Fortunately, that gave her enough time to deal another deafening blow.

Hermione swung around, and gasped heavily, trying to smile at the area Draco would roughly emerge. It didn't work.

If possible, Draco was in worse physical shape than before. His face was puce, from running up the stairs, and he was leaning against the doorframe with both lips drawn back. At that moment, Hermione knew he didn't recognise her. Rage was clouding his judgement, and he was shaking too much. He made no move to come forward and restrain her though. Possibly too horrified to even try.

"Let me introduce myself," she put a hand on her hip.

"I'm Hermione Granger, a former classmate that's very concerned. I don't know exactly what you're doing with this Vanishing Cabinet, but I heard enough to know two bad people are coming to collect it, with the aim of executing you."

"You don't know shit! Hell, you've ruined months of hard work!"

Hermione raised her voice to match his. "Don't tell me you want to die!"

"Don't you get it? Now, you've all but signed my death warrant!"

"No, I didn't-"

He chose that moment to rugby tackle her. For the first time, Hermione was genuinely scared for her life. Despite being malnourished, he was able to pin both arms easily above her head, and use his torso to keep her from thrashing about. What did she do to deserve being plastered against Draco Malfoy twice in twenty-four hours?

Really. This was getting absurd.

"Stop this" She bucked. "Stop this right now!"

"What's the matter, Granger?" He sneered. "Romping onto virgin territory?" He leaned down to whisper in her exposed ear. "Well, guess what? I like it rough."

That mark hit too close to a sexual innuendo.

Which was uncomfortable when it came from Draco Malfoy.

She screamed, and decided to do something that derived as far away from pleasure. Pain. She let go off the axe, and lifted up her head to bite his nose. She didn't let go when he scratched the side of her face. Not even, when he let go off her wrists, in favour of pulling her hair. They were locked in this torturous embrace for a good few minutes, before Draco began to tire.

He rolled off her, so they were lying side by side, facing the ceiling.

"I fucking hate you right now," his voice sounded raw. Close to crying.

"As opposed to liking me before?" She asked. Breathily. God, she despised it when she did that.

"That cabinet was my ticket to get off this world. I don't even know how you found me here. Did the Ministry send you?"

"God, no!" Hermione laughed. It was small, but it was there. "I can't believe you haven't figured it out yet. Remember, when you asked those goons to kidnap a chick, and throw her in, to see if she came out the other side? Well, that's me."

"But I don't remember you-"

"That's because I knocked you unconscious," she finished. "I'm not surprised your memory short-circuited at that event."

"You are so over-rated," he belittled. "Who knew a few ragtag boys could take you down. I presume they disarmed you, too? It's the only explanation that fits why you're still hanging around here like a bad smell."

"Listen, Malfoy," Hermione said earnestly. "I'd rather it was me, than some twelve-year-old. A young child wouldn't be able to cope with all the emotional baggage you're throwing at me now. So I'd like it if you started from the beginning, please."

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If only it was as easy as that.

"You mentioned the Ministry," Hermione spoke up, watching Draco hurrying around the living room. He was drawing runes Hermione didn't recognise on the walls. She made an effort to keep track, but his hand was too quick. "Do they know this place exists?"

"Of course they know," he said, with no hint of sarcasm. "How else is this place connected to the Floo Network?"

She was about to ask if she could use it to go back home. Draco could see it on the tip of her tongue.

"Forget it," he said harshly. "You're not going anywhere near it!"

"Only if you give me a valid reason."

"Don't be naive, mudblood! If you can't see the Minstry is corrupted, I don't know how else to convince you. It's scary to realise how many people are willing to believe the word of two-senior ranking officials, to a former, supremacist young deatheater. What you heard, was me being blackmailed by two people in positions of power. You heard them. They're willing to dispose of me once they get what they want."

"You're not making any sense-"

"I'm making perfect sense!"

He stopped by the fireplace, and gave it a scornful look. It seemed all his rune-drawing was done. He told her to get out into the hallway, or rather demanded it. She didn't want him touching her again, so she followed his instruction. This was the longest she'd heard Malfoy talk, and she was surprised to learn how much she was willing to listen.

"Turn around," he said roughly, closing the door to the living room with a slam. "It doesn't work if you're facing it."

It felt a bit daft presenting their posterior to a door, but Draco really seemed adamant. She didn't trust him, exactly, but he looked like he believed in it. They spent a few seconds, standing in a silence, shoulder to shoulder like mourners might do at a memorial. She peeked at him, until he opened his eyes, and let out a really long breath.

"Okay. We're safe now."

He wasn't lying. The door which lead to the living room had now vanished into the wall. She reached out a hand, and felt along the peeling paper. There was nothing there to give the game way, like a crease or indentation. The room simply didn't exist anymore.

"Okay, Malfoy. Where did it go?"

"Where did what go?"

"Don't play coy, it doesn't suit you."

"Fine," he rolled his shoulders, glaring at her. "You want to know? I've consigned that room to history. Now this house is completely untraceable. The Floo connection is severed. When those prats try to get through later, they'll have no chance."

This was messing with Hermione's mind irrevocably. If Malfoy had a functional wand, a floo network, and the skill to use ancient runes - why was he so keen to play the sacrificial lamb? He'd been fully accepting of his fate, until Hermione butchered the Vanishing Cabinet. Again, it lead back to that damn thing. Why was it so important to repair? Who wanted it? And what for?

Most importantly - was it worth dying over?

"Malfoy," Hermione said, trying not to let her irritation show. Not knowing exactly what was going on, was unravelling her logical mind. "You are trying my patience. If it weren't for you, I would've used that Floo Network. I might even have used the Cabinet to go back, instead of making mince-meat of it. Could have. Should have. If it weren't for you."

"Hey," he growled. "No-one asked you to look after me!"

"Just start from the beginning!"

"Look, that Cabinet gave me leverage. They will have given me a choice to how I died. Which was drowning by the way, after I leapt off the cliff into the sea. If they came and the cabinet wasn't there, or not fixed, they would kill me on the spot. No choice. No sea."

"Why are you so obsessed with the sea!" Hermione burst out. What she had really wanted to say was, That's terrible! What kind of offer is that? And please give me the names, addresses and pictures of these pillocks, so they can be sent to Azkaban.

She honestly felt like that.

Malfoy might have backed the side with a lot of war crimes under their belt, but he was way more innocent, then those supposed "good guys" working for the Ministry. After Voldemort's downfall, most of them had been purged by Kingsley. Apparently, two nefarious characters had managed to slip under the radar and were still trying to commit evil sins unbeknown to all.

"What do I look like?" Malfoy rhetorically asked, as he touched his beard and suddenly changed topics. "I need a wet shave."

Suddenly, they were just two people standing in a hallway. A boy and a girl. Skin, and warm blood and a keenness to look good. Well, that was coming from Malfoy. Hermione didn't care how she looked, especially to someone who had teased her about buck teeth. There was still an inevitably of him saying something. A biting remark, about how she needed a session with a razor or the like.

But surprisingly nothing came, except for him walking past to the stairs.

Half-way up, he paused.

"You didn't go into any other room, right?" He asked casually. "You know - upstairs?"

"Ugh, will it matter a lot if I did?"

"Yes. It would. A great deal."

"Then no."

Hermione didn't know if he believed her, but he didn't ask any follow-up questions. Staring at his back, Hermione got a sense that the room with the bottles would be the wrong thing to mention right now. But she didn't feel any guilt. There was nothing incriminating in there; so Malfoy had nothing to worry about. A little bit weird, collecting bottles, but endearing.

"Well then," he said cheerily. "I'm glad you, mudblood, of all people are here. At least my last week on Earth will be eventful."

Not this again?

"Malfoy," she hollered, since he was no longer in visual range. "Don't you dare think about ending your life! If there's only a week to convince you, then I will use every minute to talk you out of it! For starters, if you're using a blade to shave your skin, then give it to me! I'll look after it!"

"Ow," his voice jokingly soared. "I think I've just pricked my skin."

"MALFOY," Hermione all but screamed. "HANG ON!"

It was a bit of an over-reaction, but Malfoy found her concern hilarious. For the next couple of days, he vowed to do every trick in the book, to get her squealing again. Provoking Granger would certainly distract him from the dead heartbeat thudding in his chest.

Malfoy's very mysterious about who wants him dead, isn't he? Then to add confusion to the mix, he wants to die anyway!

(Or does he?)

I'm placing so many little clues in these early chapters (about events that will unfold in later ones), it's driving me cuckoo.

Please review if you can.